


Table for Two (Party of One)

by wereadtoliveathousandlives



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, F/M, and technically flarke too but that's not really the point, bellarke AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:36:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4620438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wereadtoliveathousandlives/pseuds/wereadtoliveathousandlives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on one of those AU lists floating around Tumblr (which I can't find because I'm useless at this) and so I'll paraphrase: Person 1 is being stood up at a restaurant and Person 2 swoops in to save them from embarrassment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Table for Two (Party of One)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kay_emm_gee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/gifts).



> So, I'm not really sure what I'm doing here, and this may be the only fic I will ever complete in my life because it's a total fluke, but here it is. 
> 
> Also, major props to Kayla, without whom I probably actually wouldn't have gotten anything written in the first place and without whom this wouldn't be nearly as polished (nor have a title). Also, I think I promised you something for your birthday, so. Surprise! (Let's pretend it's not tacky to have someone help with their own gift.) 
> 
> Anyway, it is what it is.

All things considered, it was not the worst date Clarke had ever been on. Which, all things considered, was not something Clarke actually wanted to consider. She’d been sitting at Rosalita’s waiting for Finn to arrive for, well she wasn’t even sure how long it had been—she’d stopped checking the time after forty-five minutes—but it was at least long enough to finish two and a half glasses of wine and a basket of breadsticks. 

Clarke liked to consider herself a pretty understanding and laid back person, and she knew that Finn was a busy guy. It took a lot of time and effort to run the local Boys and Girls Club and work on his BA at night. Busy was something she was more than familiar with, between med school and teaching youth art classes at the Boys and Girls Club. But more and more lately Finn had been acting sketchy—he missed or rejected quite a few more calls than normal (and during hours she knew he usually had free) and she hadn’t been invited over to his apartment for like three weeks—and this just seemed to be icing on the cake. It wasn’t that she and Finn were super serious or anything; they’d only been dating for about four months, but those first three months had seemed really great. She’d felt an almost instantaneous connection with Finn and he’d been so much fun to be around and relieved a lot of med school stress that she really needed. In the last month, though, they had been on a steady decline. 

So, when the waitress returned—without more breadsticks—Clarke’s mood was less than chipper. 

“I’m really sorry, miss, but you’ve been sitting here for two hours, and it’s Friday night and we have several more reservations, so if you aren’t going to be accompanied, we really need to have the table,” she said, eyes darting everywhere but Clarke’s face. 

The rational part of Clarke could tell the young lady was uncomfortable with the current situation and that she was only doing her job. This was not, after all, the first conversation on the topic that the two had had over the course of the evening, and the waitress had been extremely kind and accommodating thus far. Unfortunately, two and a half glasses of wine left Rational Clarke virtually mute, while Emotional Clarke took over. 

“He’s on his way,” she replied, draining her glass. 

“I would love to believe you, I really would, but you’ve been telling me that for the last hour and a half, and he’s yet to show up.” Clarke felt her face flush from more than just the wine. 

“But it’s not like I’m just sitting here eating the free breadsticks and water. I’ve purchased three glasses of wine. I’m a legitimate customer,” she shot back, waving the empty glass toward the empty breadbasket and her wallet in turn. 

“Yes ma’am, I understand, and we greatly appreciate your business, but we really need to reserve the tables for a higher volume. I would be more than happy to help relocate you to the bar seating, though.” 

Clarke flushed an even deeper shade of red. “I’m not—I mean, I don’t—that’s—“ she spluttered, too mortified to retort. She wasn’t here to drink her problems away or get drunk. A good tipsy, sure, but she didn’t need to move to the bar. Three was probably her limit anyway. And people were starting to take notice of their conversation. She could feel the pressure building behind her eyes, but she was not going to cry in public. “No, I’ll just—“ Clarke grabbed her wallet and waved it toward the waitress, indicating that she would pay for her drinks and get out of her hair. But before the waitress could hand over the bill, a guy stepped up to her side. 

“Hey, babe, I am so sorry. The boss made us stay late again—you know how he is—and then Friday night traffic!” Clarke’s jaw dropped and her brow furrowed in confusion, but before she could speak he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Just go with it, name’s Bellamy” and brushed a quick kiss across her cheekbone. Clarke closed her mouth and schooled her features into a smile in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. 

“Oh, it’s fine. I know how hard you work. Andrea here was just asking if we needed more breadsticks,” Clarke replied, scooting the basket toward the edge of the table. She turned her smile to the waitress, “Now that Bellamy is here, we’ll need a couple of minutes to look at the menu.”

“Oh, yes, of course, ma’am. I’ll be right back with those breadsticks.” Grabbing the basket and trying to suppress a smile—Clarke knew she liked her—Andrea walked away. 

After the waitress was out of earshot, Clarke turned to her companion, who she’d been possibly not-so-discreetly observing out of the corner of her eye. He was tanned, with a constellation of freckles covering his nose and cheekbones, dark eyes and darker curls. “Umm. So. Hi,” was what Emotional Clarke came up with. 

The corner of Bellamy’s mouth quirked up as he watched her twist the napkin in her lap. “Hi. I hope I wasn’t overstepping any boundaries just then. I just overheard your conversation and you looked like you could use a lifeboat, so.” He sort of shrugged and gestured to himself. 

“No, no. I really appreciate it. I think I might’ve been overreacting a bit, I mean, I know she’s just doing her job and business have to make money but it’s just kind of embarrassing, you know? Having an entire restaurant know you’ve been stood up.” Clarke flushed again. “So, thank you. You didn’t have to do that, but it was very kind of you.” She looked up to meet his eyes and gave him a genuine smile, teeth and all. “You’re like a white knight or something.”

“I’m happy to help,” he said as he smiled back. “Not that I think you, or any other woman, needs a man to save her, or anyone to save her, for that matter. I’m a firm believer that every princess can save herself.”

While Clarke knew that under most circumstances that speech would be just a line, that this whole thing could be one giant scheme to hit on her or something, the earnest look on his face made Clarke a firm believer in Bellamy. “Um, well, I’m sure you have some actual reason to be in Rosalita’s, besides just rescuing me from complete mortification.” 

Bellamy chuckled and leaned in, “I was having dinner with my sister.” He gestured with his head to a table over Clarke’s right shoulder toward the back of the room. When she turned around, there was a girl around her age with Bellamy’s skin tone and dark hair looking at them appraisingly, one eyebrow quirked in silent challenge. She twirled her fork in a plate of fettuccine while a plate of lasagna sat across from her getting cold. “Her name’s Octavia,” he added, as Clarke turned back to face him. 

“She’s lovely. And also sort of intimidating. Maybe I should be a little worried that I’ve stolen you.” Bellamy laughed. 

“Don’t worry, she’s one of those people who looks like she could kill you but is really just a huge softie. Except the occasional time where she actually might kill you. But I promise those moments are few and far between, and I’m pretty sure this isn’t one of them. Like 12% at least.” Clarke choked on the drink of water she’d taken while Bellamy was speaking. 

“Well, your surety is exceedingly comforting, Bellamy, so thank you for that. But really, you should get back to your sister. I’ll just pay for my drinks and head out. I’ve really overstayed my welcome as it is.” 

“Octavia is more than capable of fending for herself. Besides, she’s been eyeing our waiter the whole time and I’m fairly convinced he’s been reciprocating, but I know she won’t do anything with me sitting there.” A small smile lit up his face as he glanced over at his sister, and Clarke melted just a little. His brow furrowed and he turned back to Clarke. “Unless that was a very polite way to tell me that you’d like me to leave because if so I am more than happy to oblige and leave you alone.”

“No!” Clarke said, probably a little too quickly, but she decided to blame it on the wine. “I mean, it’s just that I’ve been sitting here for two hours already—our reservation was at 6—and you’ve got a meal waiting for you and I don’t want to take up any more of your evening. You’ve already been too kind.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Clarke nodded. “If it’s too invasive I totally understand, but why is it that you’re here alone when you were clearly supposed to be meeting at least one someone?” Bellamy tilted his head as he spoke. 

The knot in Clarke’s stomach that had been slowly undoing itself as she engaged with Bellamy and forgot about Finn tightened back up, and she studied the pattern on the table cloth as she spoke. “Well, I was supposed to be meeting my boyfriend, but he never showed up, and I can’t get him on the phone—it goes straight to voicemail so it’s probably dead—and I didn’t want to leave and him show up and me not be here because I couldn’t tell him I was leaving, so I waited. And by the time I’d waited 45 minutes I stopped wanting to look at the time and after that I was committed to waiting it out because giving up and leaving seemed too embarrassing and before I knew it it had been two hours and I’d finished three glasses of wine and an entire basket of breadsticks and still no Finn. Which is when you enter the story.” When Clarke looked up at Bellamy after she finished talking, he looked troubled. Which, Rational Clarke, who was slowly taking back over the more time and water she got between her and the wine, knew it was probably just a product of second-hand embarrassment that he felt from her story. But Emotional Clarke, who still lurked in the background, noted that it could also be because she revealed that she had a boyfriend. It was plausible. 

Andrea walked up to the table and deposited an overflowing basket of breadsticks. “I apologize for the wait; I had to wait for fresh ones to come out of the oven. Now, are you ready to order?” Clarke started to tell her that she would just take the check when Bellamy spoke. 

“Would you mind terribly, Andrea, if we had just a few more minutes to decide?” Andrea smiled and shook her head then walked back toward the kitchen. “Is that okay? If we talk for a little longer?” he asked her. Clarke nodded. “Can I ask you another question?” Clarke nodded again. “What’s your name?”

Clarke snorted then threw up her hand to cover her mouth. “Oh my goodness. I cannot believe you saved me and we’ve been sitting here talking for ten minutes and I haven’t even introduced myself. God. I’m Clarke.” She stuck out her hand for him to shake. He took her extended right hand in his left and lowered them to the table with a smile. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Clarke, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for us to be having introductions like this after the show we put on.” He gave her hand a small squeeze. Once again, Clarke flushed. 

“Right. Of course.” He squeezed her hand again, gently, before slowly sliding his away and into his lap. 

“Do you feel comfortable leaving even though you haven’t been able to get in touch with your boyfriend? Is there someone else you can call? Are you worried something might’ve happened?”

“Oh, um. I guess I hadn’t really considered it. I mean, I would like to believe that he wouldn’t just stand me up like this, but to be honest, it’s been sort of weird, lately. I might should stop by his apartment and check in on him. Just in case.” Bellamy’s lips had pursed as she spoke. “But, again, thank you so much. I guess, um, I guess I’ll go check on Finn,” she finished as she started gathering her wallet and the sweater draped across the back of her chair. Bellamy smiled, almost sadly, as he watched her gather her things. 

“It was truly a pleasure to meet you. And I’m glad I was here to come to your rescue, princess. I hope everything is all right with your boyfriend,” he said as they stood. Clarke stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure as to how to proceed in saying goodbye. As she reached out her hand to initiate a shake, Bellamy leaned down, just as he had done earlier. “I hope we meet again someday,” he whispered before brushing another kiss across her cheek. Then, he moved past her and was on his way back to his table without a backward glance. Clarke stood motionless for a moment. 

“I hope we meet again, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is based on the song "Table for Two" by Loretta Lynn. And also Kayla's brilliance.


End file.
